


Little Talks

by kopycat_101



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Alternate Ending, Ash is trans and that's just canon, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Banter, But in a very understated almost Victorian-esque way, Confessions, Dawn Reggie and Ash's Mom are all mentioned but don't appear, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Paul is both Gay and Repressed, Pining, Pre-Slash, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Romance, Slash, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Teenagers, The inherent eroticism of being rivals, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator, trans!Ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: It’s the night after the Lily of the Valley Conference, and Ash can’t sleep.He doesn’t expect to find Paul in the Pokémon Center, when he goes to get some fresh air. But he does.He also doesn’t expect Paul to ask to talk to him. But he does.The fic where Paul extends an olive branch and Ash is more than happy to snatch it at the first possible chance. He doesn’t expect Paul to have a talk with him, much less one this personable. But he’s not complaining.
Relationships: Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Shinji | Paul, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Takeshi | Brock, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum/Shinji | Paul
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98
Collections: Ash Ketchem Best Works





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month! Come and get your vintage Pokeani gays, for a limited time only!
> 
> This fic has been years in the making. Not literally, mind you, but spiritually.   
> Ash and Paul were an amazing dynamic that I loved. I've always wanted to write them, but just never did, for whatever reason.
> 
> I actually prefer comashipping way more than either Ash or Paul with Dawn. Hell, I like Dawn better with Zoey.   
> I can't believe Pokemon got me into shipping gay relationships years before I even knew I was gay. Truly iconic.
> 
> Title from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. Which was the song I mainly listened to while writing this. A very fitting vibe to this fic.

* * *

Ash couldn’t sleep.

He’s been tossing and turning for who knows how long now. It could just be minutes, or it could be hours.

Every time he closes his eyes and tries to drift off, snippets of the events from the past two days flash in his mind. Two very long, very important days.

It’s the night right after the last rounds of the Lily of the Valley Conference. And Ash…had a _lot_ to think about.

He’d beaten Paul, for once. After a long and grueling battle—a long and grueling _rivalry_ , really—he’d _done_ it. He’d _won_.

The moment Ash was declared the winner, he’d felt _elated_. Paul had finally _looked_ at him, without any disdain whatsoever, all begrudging respect.

His rival’s eyes had always looked like coal, burning with the flames of ambition, deep and dark as the endless night sky. But that last time they looked his way, it was like Ash had finally unlocked both his respect and the constellations hidden from smog.

The image dances behind his eyelids, plum hair and dark eyes, eyes brighter than Ash has ever seen them. His chest expanding with breath and filling with pride, but also feeling breathless at the same time, heart thumping like it’d just sprinted a marathon and blood singing in his veins.

It had been one of the most satisfying moments of his life.

And then it all came tumbling down.

Ash managed to finish as a Semifinalist, yes, which was the farthest he’s ever reached in a Pokémon League before. It should be a point of pride and joy for him, and it _was_ , but…

But losing so quickly right after winning against Paul felt like he’d had his dreams ripped straight from his hands. Like he’d been pushed off a cliff’s edge and was tumbling into a freefall with no help in sight.

It bothered him immensely, even after the commencement ceremony that gave him a shiny medal as a reward for his performance. And it still persisted when he’d been congratulated and commiserated in equal halves by his friends.

He’s not so much _mad_ as he is _disappointed_.

That’s probably what made it worse, actually. The disappointment in himself.

It’s bugging him, niggling at him, making it so he can’t close his eyes and turn his brain off and _finally_ crash for the day.

* * *

The night moves on. Sleep still hasn’t found him.

Ash lets out a long, slow breath; a sigh that dissipates into the cloying, stale air of the room, the bedsheets feeling rough and constrictive against his limbs. He feels exhausted and uncomfortable, even while lying down in the standard-issue mattress.

He sort of half-wishes he were camping out in the fresh air, right now, no matter how inconvenient that would be.

It’s not like he _hates_ lodging at the Pokémon Center for the night. Dawn may grumble about how lumpy the mattresses are and how the bathrooms are so tiny they barely function, but Ash is used to camping out in the wilderness and roughing it. The Center’s mattresses having _nothing_ on his own lopsided mattress from his childhood room, which feels like it somehow gets more and more springs shoved into to it every time he’s gone for too long.

Not that Dawn’s even here to complain. She’s not lodging with him and Brock tonight, instead taking up her own room, a luxury she always gives herself each time their group hits civilization and needs to rest for the night.

It’s not like he can really blame her, since her rooming with two boys would be considered strange, at the very least. Unsavory, at the very worst. Him and Brock would never do anything to make her feel unsafe in any way, but it was the principle of the thing, he guesses.

Thoughts about Dawn manage to divert Ash’s attention for all of a minute before his mind wanders back to the main reason he can’t sleep: the Lily of the Valley Conference.

Ash shifts, turning on his side instead of laying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. Pikachu grumbles and chitters something, even with how careful Ash tries not to disturb his little buddy.

Early on in the night, the electric mouse had given up on sleeping cuddled up to Ash like normal, recognizing how restless Ash was. Instead, Pikachu smartly migrated to the foot of the bed, far enough away from being squished by him constantly tossing and turning.

Ash felt bad, considering how ingrained cuddling while they slept was in their nightly routine. But some nights, it felt like a million Ariados were crawling under Ash’s skin, and he just couldn’t sit still and fall asleep.

Ash felt himself frown in the dark, eyes adjusted enough that he could see Brock’s form on the opposite bed, sleeping contentedly.

Brock wasn’t a light sleeper, per se, but the instant you touched his shoulder he would jolt up, wide-awake and ready to help. No doubt an ingrained habit from having ten younger siblings he had to parent, and all the years he joined Ash’s journeys as the honorary older brother-slash-adult.

If Ash were to get up right now and lightly shake Brock awake, Brock could give him some advice on what to do to go to sleep. But it feels hypocritical to do that. Brock’s always the first to wake up, right with the sun, ready to start the day and get breakfast ready. He barely gets enough rest as it is.

So. He’s not going to do that.

Ash gives himself five minutes of laying completely still without uselessly switching positions again.

He counts the amount of breaths Brock takes, the rise and fall of his chest. He tries counting Mareep, like what Mom always told him to do when he was younger. He glances at the clock on the bedside, with its glowing red numbers proudly proclaiming it 1:23 in the morning.

He waits until it’s 1:25 on the dot, before he finally decides to just get up.

He’s careful when he does it, though. He makes sure to jostle the bed as little as possible, so that Pikachu can rest easy, bare feet hitting the thinly carpeted floor without a sound.

He _needs_ to get out of this room. It feels too quiet, too warm, too claustrophobic in here.

Maybe stepping outside for a bit can clear his head.

Ash toes his shoes on and swipes up his keycard from the nightstand, steps still carefully light on the carpet as he maneuvers across the room.

He pauses, halfway between the exit and beds, Mom’s chiding voice popping in his sleep-addled mind, warning him to take his jacket.

Just so it gives him something to do, he swivels around and goes back to what’s considered the sitting area of the room, two wooden chairs and a tiny table shoved together in a back corner. He steps close to the chair he’d abandoned his sweaty clothes on, snagging his jacket.

Just in case it’s too cold outside, of course. Not because he feels a little more comfortable with an extra layer on.

It’s not like anyone else should be awake to see him wandering around without his binder on anyways, but. Old habits die hard, he guesses.

* * *

Finally ready to brace the outside world, Ash carefully opens the room’s door, letting it gently click shut behind him.

It’s not completely dark in the halls, despite it being so late—early?—in the morning. The Pokémon Center was open twenty-four hours for emergencies, since part of it _does_ function as a hospital, after all. The lights were dimmed in the hallways, but they were still on.

Ash tries to make his way down the hall as quietly as he can towards the nearest exit. He knows there’s an ice machine somewhere close by, and those are always placed by an exit, so that’s his best bet.

He doesn’t exactly have the best sense of direction, but after a bit of walking around the identical hallways and peering down an open fork, he finds the ice machine alongside two vending machines.

He also finds Paul, who is decidedly the _last_ person he’d thought he’d see, right now.

Ash can’t help it. He stumbles on his feet in surprise, squeaking and accidentally ramming into a decorative plant placed artfully by the machines. Nearly tumbles the thing over, but he just manages to grab onto the scraggly tree and upright it before the pot housing it could tip over and smash itself to pieces.

When he next looks up, it’s to Paul blatantly staring at him like a Stantler caught in headlights. Which is both what Ash thinks he himself must look like, and a _weird_ look on Paul’s usually serious and composed face.

“Heyyyyy Paul!” Ash greets with a bit of a nervous laugh, cringing internally from how unsure and awkward he sounds. He braces himself to be berated by Paul—whether over almost breaking something like a klutz, or for how unsure he sounds, or even for trying to still act friendly to him.

Paul does none of that, surprisingly enough.

He just. Stares at Ash.

The moment draws itself out second by painful second, with Paul only surveying him quietly. The feeling of Ariados crawling under Ash’s skin intensifies.

The thought hits him that he’s here, alone, with Paul. Standing in his pajamas, not wearing a binder, and without the comforting weight of Pikachu on his shoulder.

He hadn’t brought any of his Pokémon with him. He hadn’t though he’d needed to, and he didn’t want to wake Pikachu up. But he’s currently defenseless.

Paul wouldn’t send his Pokémon to attack Ash, though, he knows. Paul may be cruel, yes. A bit of an asshole, yes. But he’s not a _criminal_.

That doesn’t stop Ash from feeling distinctly…Vulnerable. And vaguely uncomfortable. Paul has the upper hand, here, in a lot of ways. It’s all Ash can do to not cross his arms in front of his chest and hunch in on himself.

Finally, Paul deigns to speak.

“Hey,” he states, pausing for a long moment before he nods at Ash.

It’s…actually the second-friendliest interaction he’s ever had with Paul.

Paul’s never properly greeted Ash before, in all the months they’ve known each other. It’s always been a biting glare or a grunted-out “Loser” or him forcefully and purposefully ignoring Ash’s existence.

It’s weird how it almost makes Paul seem _normal_ , telling him “hey” and nodding at him in greeting.

Ash bites his lip, and decides, okay. Alright. If Paul is putting in an effort, that’s…good. Great, actually!

It’s a _start_ , at least.

“So…” Ash starts, trying to be casual even as he carefully adjusts his jacket to further drape over his front. “You…didn’t end up leaving right away, huh?”

It’s a memory vividly burned into his mind. Paul leaving the Conference, saying there was no point in him staying further, after he’d lost to Ash. Ash asking to battle him again in the future. Paul nodding to him and turning to go.

What Paul does next is so bizarre, Ash almost feels like he’s dreaming.

Paul’s eyes bug out wide, before he whips his head down, ducking it as he coughs into his fist. His ears, peeking out from his plum-colored hair, are pink as he states, “ _Obviously_.”

Ash can’t help the smile that curls up his lips, and doesn’t even try to fight it, emboldened by the other acting slightly flustered. It’s…a very human reaction, actually. Even, dare he say, _charming_. “I guess it was too late in the day to make decent time to Snowpoint, huh?”

The other boy hums and brings a hand up to flatten his bangs. On any other person, the motion would look like nervous fidgeting, but this is _Paul_. Paul doesn’t…fidget.

“Yeah. Too late to head out. Thought I’d wait ‘til morning,” he ends up saying curtly after a few seconds, and Ash can’t help but smile harder because Paul is _agreeing with him_ , which was a complete rarity.

Maybe their match really _did_ do its part in breaking through Paul’s stubborn head and forcing him to acknowledge Ash as an equal.

Honestly, the evidence is staring him straight in the face.

Paul isn’t one for small talk, and he _certainly_ isn’t the type to admit he’s wrong, unless it’s criticism from someone who’s a strong Trainer that he really respects.

“So—” “I—”

Ash blinks, stopping himself from talking over the other. Paul wasn’t a talker or one to start a conversation, generally. So this was…different.

He was actually really curious on what his rival had to say.

After a good five seconds of supremely awkward silence—he could literally _see_ the discomfort coming off Paul in waves, who was back to tugging at his bangs and decidedly not looking up—Ash tentatively blurts, “Sorry! Um. What were you going to say?”

“I…” Paul trails off, before taking a noticeable breath, dropping his hand and straightening his posture and staring straight into Ash’s eyes. “I want to talk to you.”

Ash _swears_ his heart skips a solid two beats, just from sheer shock.

“S-Sure! I mean. You’re already sort of doing it…?” he points out with an awkward laugh.

Paul scowls back at him. “I mean _talk_. Outside.”

“Oh!” Ash blinks noctowlishly. “Yeah, alright. Let’s talk.”

He’s always tried to extend an olive branch out to Paul, time and time again. The other boy had never taken it, had always rebuffed Ash’s attempts at friendship.

But now, he’s extending the olive branch _himself_ , of all things. And Ash is more than happy to snatch it at the first possible chance, before the other one can take it back and close himself off once more.

He follows curiously behind Paul, who’s already turned on his heel and stalking to the exit, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders nearly hitched up to his ears. Which are pink, again, Ash can’t help but note with amusement.

While Paul aggressively shoulders the exit open, Ash quickly zips up his jacket.

The air is fresh and just this side of chilly, instantly hitting Ash in the face when he exits the Center. He takes a deep breath, cool air filling his lungs, feeling a surge of relief.

Despite how suspicious the current situation seems— with Paul leading him out into the night, alone— Ash has never felt so… relaxed.

Being outside was the best thing to do, feeling so restless. He even felt a burst of renewed energy, in spite of the early hour.

* * *

Ash stretches his arms above his head and gives a contended hum.

The moment doesn’t last long. “You going to follow, or what?” Paul sighs loudly, voice full of exasperation.

Ash blinks, jolting, having not realized he’d stopped in place.

Paul was half-turned around, looking over his shoulder at him. He’s a few yards away, scuffing his sneakers against the concrete, looking awkward and very much impatient.

“Sorry! Coming!” Ash grins sheepishly, jogging over to catch up with his rival. “Just enjoying the fresh air. I was starting to feel, I dunno, durantsy? Inside the Poké Center.”

The other just hums, already turning around to keep walking.

Ash finally manages to jog up, falling into step with Paul. He’s determined not to fall behind again, even if his eyes dart around, taking in the sights blanketed by the quiet darkness of the early hour.

“Compared to the stale air in the building, the night’s nice,” Ash goes on, smile comfortable on his lips. “Cool air’s just what I needed, I think.”

The Poké Center here was also on the bigger side. There was an impressively huge parking lot and everything; not all Centers even _had_ a parking lot attached to them.

Although it looks like Paul was taking them on a route through the grassy lot, lined by pretty cobblestone and benches and little water fountains.

Even in the waning and sparse lamplight, it was pretty. Picturesque, even. Ash can’t remember what it looks like during the day, but it’s probably even prettier when the sun’s out.

“…They say it’s easier to go to sleep, when you feel cold,” Paul offers after a minute, voice carefully disinterested, even when he surveys Ash from the corner of his eye.

“Really? My Mom said something like that before,” Ash muses, face fully turned to survey Paul, a little shocked that he was contributing to small-talk. “But I wasn’t ever sure if it was true…Or if it’s like how she always said I’d catch a cold by not wearing a jacket outside.”

“They also say idiots can’t catch colds,” Paul drawls out, turning his gaze forwards, a smirk on the edge of his lips.

“H-Hey!” Ash yelps, before laughing despite himself. Who knew Paul had a sense of humor? “That’s just an old wive’s tale, y’know!”

“Reggie told me it,” the other boy shrugs, casual and dismissive. “He’d say, ‘ _you’re not an idiot, Paul, so you shouldn’t act like one and go out without a jacket. You’ll catch a cold that way_ ’. Or something.”

“Or something,” Ash parrots pointedly with a snicker, because Paul literally changed up his voice and everything, while quoting his older brother. It was a pretty good impression, too, all mellow and concerned.

Paul lurches to the side suddenly, ramming his shoulder against Ash’s, and retreating just as quickly. Ash squawks, barely keeping his balance, sputtering.

“Or something,” Paul repeats, flatly.

Ash laughs, loud and uproarious and with his belly.

It felt good to laugh. Even better to laugh after his loss. Even more phenomenally to laugh with Paul, who was always so stern and stone-cold, Ash had theorized he was half-robot.

Who knew talking to Paul would make him feel better…? Ash certainly hadn’t considered the possibility, but here he was.

* * *

Paul doesn’t stop walking until they’re at the edge of the Center’s lot entirely. Where its scraggly grass meets the concrete sidewalk, before it transitions to the blacktop of the main road.

It’s out-of-the-way. It’s as if Paul—pragmatic and to-the-point Paul—wanted to take the scenic route, almost.

Or maybe he just wanted absolutely no chance whatsoever for anyone they knew to come across them talking.

Ash pauses, a few steps back, considering. Then he steps forwards and stops next to Paul, but still far enough to give him his personal space, a polite distance between them.

It was a nice walk, though. Being outside in the fresh air. Working off his excess energy.

Bantering with Paul. Like they were _friends_ , almost. Not just bitter rivals.

A nearby streetlamp illuminates the area enough for Ash to be able to look over at Paul without squinting his eyes. He’s able to see the other’s stance relax considerably, sees him letting out a long breath, as if exhaling the tension from his body.

Maybe his rival had been nervous to talk to him. So he’d used the walk to get some of the jitters out. Though, really, Paul didn’t seem like the type to get nervous about something like this.

Then again, Ash was starting to learn that he didn’t know everything about his rival. Like how he was willing to change. To talk. To be polite. To even show he has a sense of humor.

Paul stares up at the night sky pensively, gaze unwavering, coal-dark eyes reflecting the stars.

Ash tries to look at the sky, too, but Paul’s eyes quickly draws his gaze like a magnet instead.

Like this—staring up at the stars as if for guidance at nearly two in the morning—Paul almost looks…soft. Vulnerable, even. Like all his harsh, jagged edges are smoothed down just enough to touch without being hurt.

It’s a good look for him.

Ash wishes he could see it more.

* * *

The moment stretches out, hushed and fragile. One minute could have passed, or it could be ten—Ash wouldn’t know. Time feels like it’s at a standstill.

After what feels like an eternity—but couldn’t be longer than two minutes, tops—Paul speaks.

“‘ _When one life meets another, something will be born’_ ,” Paul quotes. Ash is startled to hear it said with such careful consideration, an almost _gentleness_ , even. Like he’s weighing every word.

Paul finally turns to look at him, gaze considering, but not harsh.

“The first time Cynthia had said this, I didn’t believe her. Her insistence on it hadn’t convinced me, either,” Paul starts, oddly intent as he stares into Ash’s eyes.

There’s something he’s trying to say but can’t seem to actually articulate. Paul wasn’t one for talking or expressing feelings at the best of times. But from the way he’s staring—as if pleading with his gaze alone— he _wants_ to say something.

It almost feels like what he’s _not_ saying is what’s important.

So, for once, Ash does his best to read between the lines.

“But it finally convinced you…?” Ash tries, feeling oddly tentative as he asks. The air between them feels charged, _electric_ , making his fingers tingle. Familiar and welcome, but also _different_ , in a way.

After all, the electricity between them had always been a dangerous, crackling thing. A sharp whip-crack of a lightning strike. A thunderstorm swirling and building. The crashing of two opposing elements, as they met and battled and fought one another.

Now, the charge hums between them, steady and heady. The biggest difference is that it’s not vicious and dangerous anymore.

Ash almost thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, with how the lamplight shows Paul’s face flushing a delicate pink. The edge of the other’s lips quirk up into the smallest and most private smile possible— like he’s relearning how to even do it properly in the first place, but it’s a _smile_.

The moment is dream-like, but Ash is all too sure that this is reality. His dreams are never this vivid.

“What do you think?” Paul asks instead, but his eyes _gleam_ , and the constellations spell ‘YES’ in the loudest way possible while being silent.

* * *

Ash hadn’t ever considered himself much of a romantic. Paul probably wasn’t one either. But then again, the two of them were seemingly entwined by fate, by an ancient phrase.

It could explain why what happens next actually happens.

The two lean in, like magnets, an inevitability and a long-waited conclusion in one.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Except instead of destruction being wrought when the two collide, something else occurs.

Ash hasn’t ever kissed anyone before, but he could do worse than having his first one under the stars.

* * *

_When one life meets another, something will be born._

Ash thought he’d understood what that meant, but if he didn’t before, he’s sure he knows now.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I miiiight have more comashipping in the works. I got into a zine for them, actually! So, eyes peeled for that in the future.
> 
> Anyways, kudos, bookmarks, and comments are very much appreciated!  
> I know this pairing is struggling a bit, since it's been over a decade when the DP anime aired. I know you fans are out there, though. I can feel it.


End file.
